A Star-Crossed Hero
by Jessiwonderlanderson
Summary: Decades after the Hero of Brightwall defeated the impending Darkness, there is a new Hero. Kicked out of her throne and home, Annabelle, the Hero of Driftwood must swallow her pride and accept the help of the one man she cannot stand if she is ever to regain her birthright and live on through tales of her greatness that has saved Albion once again, if she doesn't destroy it first.
1. A Change of Course

Chapter One: Change of course.

The air was silent in the cold of winter as the young girl looked out over the valleys below. She had been hiding in the Mistpeak Mountains hunting down bandits and highway men for a few days. She had only intended to visit Brightwall for a short time to visit the academy that her ancestor had built, but as soon as she stepped foot into the town square she had been bombarded with cries for help. Villagers were telling her elaborate tales of how they were no longer free to travel the valley below because of the new bandit activity.

Bandits were nothing new in Mistpeak and the girl wished that these people would realize that it was a part of life here, but she had an image to maintain and it wouldn't be very good for it to be tarnished at such a vital point in her plans of treason. Reluctantly she agreed to wipe them out for a free stay in the tavern. Now she was patiently waiting out in the blistering cold waiting for the cover of night when most of the bandits would be returning to their camps in the caves, that was her oppurtunity to strike.

Slowly her thoughts wandered to the castle on the otherside of Albion where she imagined warm, dry fires and roasted meat that she wouldn't have to kill herself. She cursed under her breath, knowing full well that those pleasures were rightfully hers by blood, yet they had been stripped from her before she was even born. Her thoughts also wandered towards her old love, she had met them in court before there was an attempt on her life. She was able to flee but her family was not so lucky.

The girl quickly stood up. It would not do her well to become unfocused and distracted in the mountains where there were wolves, bandits, and balverines waiting to take her life. She didn't want to think of her old life either, it was useless to her. Now she was a fully fledged Hero and in constant danger, nostalgia could easily get her killed. The girl walked around and decided to move closer to the cave's entrance as night drew nearer. She gathered up her bag and took of, moving quickly to make her long trip shorter and to keep warmer.

"Damn cold... How did anyone ever survive in these aweful mountains?" She whispered only for the silent trees to hear. Sooner than she thought, the cave was in sight. The girl climbed up the tallest spruce she could find and waited, never taking her eyes from the cave entrance. The sun went down, yet she was still waiting. When the full of the night was upon her, she decided to climb down and move even closer. There were some dense bushes about fifty yards away from the entrance that she made her self comfortable in and waited, double checking her stock of health potions just in case the coming fight became nasty.

The girl was so focused on the cave entrance that she never heard the foot steps behind her, and she had no idea that she had been being watched until she heard the all-too familiar click of a pistol from behind.

"Get up and turn around," An arrogant voice ordered.

The girl did as she was told and discovered a tall, hooded man standing in the complete open with an antique pistol pointed in her face.

"What do you think you're doing here? A young lady like yourself is sure to get killed out here. Did you even know that there were bandits camping out in that cave? Or that the balverines love nothing more than the hot flesh of a stranger all alone? I can personally confirm that there are so many balverines hidden in these forests."

"Yes, I know of the danger that lurks here. And I've been tracking those bandits for days, I was supposed to kill 'em all tonight. What do you mean there were? What happened to them?" The young girl was flustered, not used to being caught and treated like a child.

"I personally killed them all, they were... getting in the way of my affairs. I killed every last one of them last night," He replied, gun still aimed. "Who are you anyway? Take of your hood."

Very reluctantly she pulled back her hood to reveal her curly brown hair and gray/green eyes.

"Oh my," The man smirked. "This is rich indeed. I'm graced by the presence of Albion's newest Hero. Well, I suppose it won't hurt me any to show who I am.

He pulled down his hood with his free hand, taking extra care to keep his pistol aimed.

It had been a few years since she had seen him, but that black hair and smug face belonged to none other than Reaver himself. It appeared as though he had not aged a day.

"Reaver, I'm not sure whether I should be delighted that it's someone I know, or if I should be terrified that it is in fact, you."

"Fear not, I'm not fool enough to try and kill you myself. I've heard that Heros are quite hard to kill and that it will only end badly for whoever wants them dead," And with that, Reaver swiftly put his pistol back into it's holster and offered his hand to help her up. She ignored it completely.

"I have to admit that I'm surprised to see you here, Reaver. Surely you would be more comfortable in your mansion with all of those bedmates of yours."

"Normally I would be, but like I have already said, I came to kill those bandits interfering with my business."

"And what business do you have in the harsh mountians?" She asked, wanting to add as much insult into her question as possible.

"I hardly think that my business is any of your business and it would be all the better for your skin to stay out of it. I deal with aweful matters, I'm sure you've heard."

"I've heard them all right. And you're wrong about one thing. Tonight our businesses were the same when you killed the bandits I was meant to kill."

"You know, aside from the bandits, you have yet to tell me what you're doing here. The harsh mountains, as you put it, surely aren't anymore suitable for you as they are for me, am I correct, Annabelle?"

She suddenly stopped breathing. It had been over four years since she was called by her name. It reminded her too much of her happy childhood when her parents called her name lovingly.

"Reaver, you bastard!" She yelled through clenched teeth. She took a swing at him but he easily dodged it and she was thrown into the snow.

"Haha, I knew that would get to you. So once again, I ask you to tell me what the hell you're doing up here. I'm dying to know Albion's little secrets."

AN: Hey, this is my first posted fanfic, so please don't judge too harshly. I've written stories my entire life, but have only lately become comfortable to post them for the world to see. I hope you like my work and feel free to review, comment, and criticize. I will gladly accept any input. I do not own the Fable franchise, but if someone were to buy it for me, I wouldn't be complaining. ;)


	2. Unlikely Allies

Chapter Two: Unlikely Allies

Annabelle had tried to walk away from Reaver without answering his question, but as soon as she took a step towards the general direction of Brightwall, she was face-to-face with that damned pistol again. Normally she would draw her own firearm, but she was too tired to attack Reaver and didn't really want him dead just yet as she realized that he could be of use

"I _will not_ lower my pistol until you answer me, sweet Annabelle," He smirked.

"Come one, Reaver. You don't want me dead. You would have pulled your trigger already," Annabelle pulled her hood back up to keep the icy wind from biting her face. "Let's go to the tavern in Brightwall. We can talk where it's warm. They owe me a free room anyway."

Reaver uncharacteristically bowed at the waist. "By your lead, M'lady."

The walk to Brightwall was awkward and uneventful. Reaver droned on and on about various things that happened in the court and who was in love with whom. Eventually Annabelle asked about her old love that she was forced to leave behind but Reaver refused to give any information about him. He only seemed to be interested in telling Annabelle things pertaining to himself, much to Annabelle's dismay. When the long, stone bridge of Brightwall came into view, it was all that Annabelle could do not to run ahead and hide from Reaver.

"Oh dear..." She heard Reaver moan. Annabelle turned around to see that Reaver had stopped dead in his tracks right where the bridge began.

"What is it? Come on, Reaver. I want to get out of this cold," Annabelle said exasperatedly, now shivering.

"I just remembered that one of my old... boyfriends lives here. I truly hope that we don't come across one another tonight. That would most definitely put a damper on our evening, wouldn't you say, Hero?"

"A boy? Are you kidding? That's a little messed up, but somehow I'm not shocked by it."

"Hey! Men are just as lovable and sensual as women. I believe his name was Richard. He was a sweet little chap, though come to think of it, he's probably dead. Very well then, on we go!" Reaver said happily as he stepped on to the bridge and walked his way across, head held high.

"How can you be so young if this Richard guy should be dead by now? He must have been at least fifty years older than you," Annabelle questioned as she caught up to Reaver.

"My dear girl, there are just some things you don't question in the world, my pleasures being on the top of the list," He answered. "Oh, is this the tavern? I can hardly bear to think that people willingly sleep in this sad excuse for lodging. What we need is a brothel! Booze and boobs to go around! Ha ha ha haa..."

The young girl didn't even bother responding to him. Instead she walked straight into the tavern and up to the lazy-eyed bartender. "All of the bandits are dead. Tell your crier in the morning. In the meantime, can I get two rooms and two pints?"

"I'll give you the room and the pint free o' charge, but 'e needs to pay for 'is," The old man said and jerked his head towards Reaver.

"Well, you see, this man helped me kill off all those bandits. All that he requests for payment is some lodging and spirits."

The man eyed him up and down with his good eye and said, "Oh, very well then. Go an' sit down wherever you like, I'll get your pints an' set up some rooms for ya. After all, a friend o' the Hero is a friend 'o mine.

"I wouldn't count on that," Reaver said only loud enough for Annabelle to hear.

"So, why are you here, little Annabelle?" Reaver asked as he sat down and lifted his feet onto the table.

"Shh! Don't you dare call me that, Reaver, or I swear on my father's grave that I will kill you here and now!" Annabelle spat as she sat down opposite Reaver. "There are guards in this town that would be more than happy to take my head to Will."

"I'll have to ask you to do the same for me. No names!" He spat back. "You're so defensive and sensitive to your name, which means that what you're about to tell me has got to be good. Albion already knows that you're the next Hero. Why don't you start there, the night your parents died and you ran off to become a Hero."

"Fine," Annabelle said. "As you know, a few generations after the Hero of Brightwall, the king, my great-grandfather was overthrown by Count Remen. My family was allowed to stay in court because at the time, my grandfather was only a very small child. It's by Remen's mercy that I exist today. We were made the head of the military and have lived happily until five years ago it became evident that I was to carry on my ancestor's legacy as Albions Hero. You know the story of my parent's murder how King Will had them bruttally murdered in their sleep. I won't speak it ever again. Byron helped me to escape Bowerstone. On the road I met this Seeress named Theresa. She said that she was the Seer of the Spire," Annebelle noticed Reaver's eyes narrow when she mentioned the Spire. "Theresa took me to driftwood where no guards would be looking for me. She told me that she saw my future and that I was destined to regain the throne and protect Albion, a fate almost identical to my great-great-grandfather. Even then, I cut my hair and disguised myself as a boy. I trained there for a few weeks and then set out to become the Hero I was meant to be. Doing so led me here, to visit the Academy."

"That's all to the story that there is? How inconceivably dull," Reaver stretched. He started to say something else but the bartender came with their pints. Reaver didn't speak again until the bartender was well out of earshot. "What about revenge? Surely after everything that King Will put you through has stirred something in your gutt that wants to see him dead at your feet. Don't you have any plans to take back your throne, Princess?"

Annabelle hated that Reaver knew exactly what she wanted. She was also caught off guard by him calling her by a royal title, Reaver took advantage of that.

"You see, Hero, when you've been around as long as I have, surrounded by an ever-changing crowd of faces, you begin to be able to read people. I can tell what every person I come across feels in their soul. Fear, bliss, peace, and for you, I can see anger and a thirst for revenge. It's so prominent that I can see it in those beautiful eyes of yours, no need to look at your soul."

"Why are you so interested in what I want Reaver? Why do you keep digging deeper and deeper into my affairs?"

"Because I want to help you. I've never like our most gracious king. He always gets in the way of my business but unfortunately he is much harder to kill than bandits, and even if I succeed, who will take his place? I though of you immediately. I knew that you had survived that night. The king would have bragged over your death if you would have indeed been killed. I knew that as you grew older and stronger, that you must hate King Will and want your throne back. I layed low for a few months until I heard stories of a Hero. I knew immediately that the stories were of your deeds as you're the only on with Hero blood running through their veins. Even then, I knew that you wouldn't be strong enough for me to come forth to you."

"So," Annabelle took a few swigs from her pint and let the heat of the drink warm her veins. "How did you know where to find me tonight?"

"That was complete coincidence that I'll admit, left me quite flustered. I was planning on contacting you a few weeks from now, but the sooner the better I suppose. The bottom line is that I know you're planning an overthrow, word comes to me quite quickly, and Annabelle, I want in." At this point Reaver had taken his feet off the table and was instead leaning over it, resting his head against his fist and with a fierce glimmer in his eye that told Annabelle that he had been waiting for this moment for a very, very long time.

"I'll be prepared to take you up on that, Reaver, but only if you can promise me to remain loyal. I've heard the aweful stories that follow you around from behind, and if they are at all true, then it's in ym very nature to hate you. There are truly nasty things said about you that I dare not speak aloud of."

"Ah yes, I've heard many of those nasty rumors myself. I will keep my personal business out of our new... er... alliance so long as you also remain loyal to me. We both have a lot to gain from this alliance. You will gain your rightful place as our new monarch and I will gain untold riches and new business oppurtunities. Together, I believe we will make a truly unstoppable team. Have we ourselves a deal then?" Reaver stuck out his hand.

Annabelle had a gut feeling that she shoudn't trust Reaver, that affairs with him would not go as planned, but she had no where else to go, no leads from her sources about where to find the armies and money that she needed to overthrow the king. Those were all resources that she very well knew Reaver could provide, so Annabelle swallowed her pride and took Reaver's hand.

"How wonderful. Tomorrow we should set out for my mansion so we can talk more things over. I can also assure you that there won't be any of my bedmates. I believe that for the first time in my life, I don't need their distraction." Reaver said, finishing off his pint.

"For some reason, that doesn't comfort me. I'm going to bed. I'll meet you down here in the morning."

"I should also sleep, I don't want to look absolutely dreadful in the morning while you look radiant."

Ignoring this, Annabelle left the table and went up the the bartender. "Have you got our rooms ready yet?"

"I'm sorry, Miss, but it seems to me that there is only one room left with only one bed in it. You two will 'ave to share it."

"Hmm, what an interesting turn of events, wouldn't you say, Hero?" Reaver put his arm around Annabelle's waist and pulled her close to him.

"We'll take it!" He exclaimed, only tightening his grip on Annabelle's waist as she struggled to get away.

"Right this way, then," the bartender said and took off towards the stairs. Reaver let go and began to follow.

"I swear, Reaver," Annabelle yanked on his coat. "If you ever do that again, I will put a knife right between your eyes."  
Reaver raised his eyebrows and grabbed her chin.

"You're blushing, Annabelle," he said.

That night, while trying to stay as far away from Reaver as possible, Annabelle dreamt of terrible armies of monsters waging war over Albion. She awoke with a start to find that Theresa was standing at the foot of the bed.

"Annabelle," she said in her misty voice. "Do not trust this man. He has much darkness and terrible secrets around him. His past would make you're skin crawl. While he does have the resources you need to fulfill your destiny, if you come to care for this man, it could lead to disaster if you are not careful. You have been warned."

Annabelle sat up groggily, wanting to ask questions, but as soon as she stirred, the Seeress vanished. By the time morning came along, Annabelle had all but forgotten the events of the night.

AN: Second chapter done! It's lengthier than I though it would be. That's what happens when I can escape into the world and just keep pumping out the story. I caught some minor grammar issues that I addressed in this chapter. Tomorrow I'll go and edit the first chapter. Once again, I don't own the Fable franchise, so please don't remind me of the fact that Reaver does not actually belong to me.


End file.
